Dewey: "Tatum, Mama said that when I wear this uniform, you treat me like a man of the law!"

Sadako: "Younger sibling busting the balls of older sib in law enforcement. Is that the outline of Pacey Witter and Deputy Dougie I see before me?"

Billy: "No, it actually wasn't me. Come on, Sidney. Don't you think you're making such a big thing out of putting off sex? I know you're upset about your mom, but it's been a whole month since they put her butchered body into her Y-shaped coffin. Why aren't you warm for my form?"

Gale: "Serious journalist here."

Dewey: "Hi."

Gale: "Ooh, my shot at getting a longer name in the credits of my sitcom. That'll show Jen."

Friday, May 28, 2010

That summer. The summer before the life changing formation of the Babysitters Club. When all of us--Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey and I--felt like we were alone. Teetering towards teenagerhood. Clinging to the remnants of childhood. Staring into a river of sturm und drang, with Barbies on one shore and tampons bras womanly apparel on the next. What a time we had.

Mom was dating my future stepfather, Watson, that summer. And I resented that he was such a great father to his real daughter, Karen, who'd probably be put away in an insane asylum when Phyllis Reynolds Naylor finally got around to bringing that Mrs. Tuggle related plagiarism suit against Ann M. Why was Watson such a great parent to Karen when my father couldn't even be a mediocre father to a great kid like me?

I wanted to do something to bring my dad's presence back into my life. Something that showed him that I wanted him in my life but wouldn't disrupt continuity like a visit or a phone call. Just something that would still give me a reason to feel angst that was appropriate for someone of my age.

So I wrote him a letter. I was going to put in something to remind him of my coming birthday, like Can you believe your daughter is almost 12? but then Ann realized that that was old lady-esque passive aggression more characteristic of Mary Anne than of me.

Dad never wrote back and I got a return to sender on the envelope. And no present on my birthday either. I suppose men do have to be gently prodded into remembering these things after all.

Mary Anne

I remember that summer. The summer I used to sneak up to the attic to find a little bit of who I was--memories of my mother. I had to do it carefully, as I knew it would anger my father and obsessive ghostwriter Ellen Miles who thought I didn't go up there to find out about my past till BSC Mystery #5.

That was the summer that my father loosened the cord--just a little bit. He let me start babysitting. But the catch was that I could only babysit with another girl supervising, with my dad on speaker phone no matter where he was, and with the fire department on call.

If only there were a way to make him see I was mature! But not so mature that he'd loosen all the rules before my epic time babysitting for a feverish Jenny Prezzioso. (One has to save something for the reader.) When I finally babysat with Claudia for Jamie Newton and nothing happened, Dad realized I was (sort of kind of but not really) growing up. "Mary Anne," he told me, "you can babysit by yourself. But only under certain situations, before dark, and with the Life Alert button I bought you last Christmas."

That was also the summer Kristy was missing her dad. She was hoping he'd do something for her birthday and he didn't, so I decided that in addition to making her a present, I'd try to fill the void in her life with a parade--featuring some of our sitting charges. I even asked Claudia to help, but she was dating an older boy and had no time for Kristy or me.

"No thanks," Claudia said. "I've got to sit at home and wait for Frankie to come by. He might snicker at my art or look sophisticated and call me kid."

I looked at her. I was losing my temper, I knew. I didn't lose my temper all that often but when I did--watch out. Months, even years, of bottled up passive aggression. I balled my hands into fists and almost said, "Enlighten me, Claudia. Why do you spend all your time waiting for a future professional Thailand tourist?" But I didn't, when I saw how sad she seemed. I settled on a slight sneer instead. It would serve me in good stead in the future, like when Logan would refuse to put on the Rum Tum Tugger suit I made for him at the BSC Pet Contest.

The parade went well, and Kristy was happy. And I knew that rearranging my entire summer to make sure she didn't snap at me in irritation had been worth it. Sometimes I was so shy around boys back then. I was used to trying to please Kristy, though. If only I could replicate our friendship with a guy--wouldn't that be wonderful?

Claudia

That summer, I had my first boy-girl party. It was my twelfth birthday, and I decided to make it a big one, since I knew I wasn't going to get another birthday party for many, many cycles. It was a pool party and I accessorized my hair, jewelry, swimsuit that would show off my chest type area, as well as all the carefully orchestrated manoeuvrings I'd have to do to make sure I didn't get anything above my shoulders wet.

"Oh, the friends I invited are here--" Janine started to say till I interrupted.

"JANINE. Can't you use normal words? Who says invite?" I grumped. But that's when I saw him. Frankie. My first crush. He was almost a freshman in high school, and Janine had met him in her summer classes. My older sister clearly liked him, but Frankie gave me his shirt to wear when I got cold, and he put mustard and ketchup on my hot dog, so I knew I'd won.

Frankie called and came by for me a lot that summer. I saw my parents exchanging uncomfortable glances when he came over, but I didn't care. Frankie was the only one who understood my art. I'd given him a picture of a sparrow I'd sketched and before saying, "Oh, uh, thanks, what a great tumor," he had crumpled it up and put it in his jeans pocket that didn't contain wadded up gum. Finally, someone who appreciated my art.

One day, right before school started, we went to the pool with his other friends. They fawned over him and made fun of me. One of them asked if I'd been to day camp that summer. Later that night, Frankie called and said we shouldn't see each other anymore. "But--

"Besides," he said, "I don't think Connecticut has a Romeo and Juliet provision for statutory crimes yet." He hung up. So that was love. I realized I had a lot of growing up to do.

I talked to Janine about it because I knew she'd been upset, and we had a moment that felt sort of intimate. I almost confided in her about my hidden candy and Nancy Drew books but remembered that we couldn't get too close until the phantom phone calls episode or Mimi having her stroke, and pulled back. Then it was time to to re-befriend Kristy and Mary Anne, or as I called them, the reserve friends. After all, I never knew when my regular lunchtime set Dori Wallingford, Pete Black, and Rick Chow would drop me.

Kristy

One night, Mary Anne, Claudia, and I sat together reminiscing about our summer. By our standards, it had been simple. No trips to Hawaii or Europe. Only one crush. No medical emergencies, no makeovers, no racist incidents. Still, it had been wonderful in its own quiet way.

"I was afraid we'd grown apart," I said to Claudia. "You've been wearing some awfully wild things. Like magenta."

"I felt that way, too, at first. But I think we're closer than we realize. There's a glue holding us together," she told me. "The glue is all down Bradford Park. In the sidewalk. In this tree. And not just in all of us--it's in the supporting characters like our parents and Janine and Sam and Charlie and Mimi. And in the almost non-existent ones like Kristy's father and Mary Anne's dead mother."

"Didn't the summer go by fast?" said Mary Anne.

"No," I said. "Not fast enough for me. I just wish I knew what the future held in store. If only there were a way to look ahead in a crystal ball. Not so much for us but for the people around us whose only entertainment is our preteen dreams."

Claudia nodded. "Like, what if there were a way to see if we had a Big Day or Great Idea or something coming up. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Our lives are just so interesting. Everyone really needs to stay tuned," I said, glancing off into the future.

Stacey

That summer had been a really intense one for me. My former best friend Laine and I grew apart. And then I got the diabetes and had to spend most of my time watching Wilford Brimley infomercials.

It was a simpler time. I was so much younger at twelve than I am now, telling this, at thirteen. There was a time when I actually begged to be allowed to order non diet ginger cola when today the mere sight of regular soda fills me with a rage rivaled only by Meme Roth's sugar hatred.

My parents arranged a surprise party for me before I left. They even invited Laine. I knew they wanted it to go well, but no one was prepared for how badly things went, least of all me. My old friends laughed at my babysitting charges. And then Laine did the most absolutely shocking thing she's ever done. She poured coke on my new ruffled blouse.

I was really glad to go to make the move to the suburbs. I'll always love the city, but I guess you can see that New York kids are more than a little wild.

My first week in Stoneybrook, I met a girl who showed me where my science class was. She wore braided pigtails and looked shy. As she scurried away, part of me knew that my destiny was entwined with hers.

I had lunch with Emily Bernstein, the school's Tracy Flick. She showed me around and introduced me to some people. Since there were only a few things there I could eat and my overprotective stay at home mom hadn't thought to pack me an appropriate lunch, I bought a pretty small meal. I could see Emily eying my meal and thinking, "Did Dalton kick her out for anorexia or bulimia?" but one glance at her healthy gams, and I knew she was just jealous of my flat stomach and filled out chest.

That was the day I met Claudia. She was pretty much the only who fill the position of BFF for me, based on her fashion sense and ability to attract guys without overshadowing me. Yup, I had a feeling the school year was going to go fine.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Thanks for all your suggestions, guys. I'm going to incorporate a lot of them into future posts. And as always, thanks for your kind words--I'm not BS-ing when I say you guys are a wonderful audience. (Er, readership?) With that in mind, snark on, MacDuff!

It's everyone's favorite TGIF show! More cutesy cute than Box Full o' Puppies. More nauseating than The Human Centipede. But you know you all loved it.

Jesse: "If I have to do this show, I'm not doing it with gentle good humor. I'm not changing diapers, shaving my mullet, or singing family friendly versions of Jumping Jack Flash while I unwind a Jack-in-the-Box."

Jeff Franklin: "Well, then you'll have to get a catch-phrase. Screw character development or acting prowess for making a character sympathetic--it's catch phrases all the way."

Jesse: "Have mercy. No, seriously. Have mercy on me. Don't make me sing another rock version of Farmer in the Dell..."

Joey: "You won't regret this! I'll live in the alcove. I'll live in the garage. I'll live wherever you want me to go--just don't abandon me."

Danny: "Aw, Steph. You know we'll always love you, even if you aren't cute or precocious anymore. And even if you did wreck the kitchen without spouting off an adorable catch phrase like I'm in big trouble, Mister."

Michelle: "Daddy, Uncle Jesse, Joey! I sent Mr. Bear to Abu Dhabi and drowned my pet fish having a tea party and scalded Dave the class bird in the shower."

D.J.: "Dad, I hate the way I look! I wanna starve myself till I look like Aunt Becky or one of the models you and Joey were ogling at the gym."

Danny: "Well, the swelling violins are gonna wrap up in two minutes, so accept your Charlie Brown cheeks or zip it."

D.J.: "You know, I suddenly feel feel at peace, like when Kirk pipes in the Left Behind audio tapes into my room at night."

Jeff Franklin: "Glad to hear that you're resisting the pressure to diet excessively like so many girls in the industry. Oh, here's an exercise bike. I don't want to see you off it unless it's to complain about teen drinking."

Jesse: "Have mercy! You're gainfully employed and willing to support my part-time music career, you can defuse my occasional chauvinism with a nonthreatening humorous remark, you're hot, you've got my most favorite woman's first name ever, you're willing to do the Priscilla look in bed...the only way you could be better is if your last name was the same as my favorite brand of lettuce. Let's get married."

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse! Sing the Teddy Bear song!"

Jesse: "Uh, Becky, do you think you could also move into a windowless attic?"

Becky: "Are you serious?"

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse! Or we'll bring back the mullet. We have a production credit so we can do that now."

Jesse: "...Yeah."

Fat Fish Records: "I love your voice, Jesse, and I want to sign a record label with you. Believe me: I know music. The only problem is you're so great, I don't know who I'll be able to top you with. Ooh, anyone know the Countess de Lesseps' number?"

D.J.: "Do I look like the average teen? I'm sixteen and I have a 40 year old suburban mom-cut."

Stephanie: "Uncle Jesse? My friend Gia and I are thinking of going joyriding with some older kids we barely know..."

Jesse: "Steph? Where is this coming from--wait, joyriding? Sorry, get lost until you can produce an abused or anorexic friend."

Stephanie: "But Uncle Jesse--"

Jesse: "Not now, I'm waiting to hear back from Carnie Wilson. Hello? Carnie? If you can sneak out another of your dad's B-sides for me to cover, I'll take you on a west coast burger tour--In 'n Out, Phatburger, Whataburger. Carnie? Carnie?"

Lou Bond: "I'd like to buy this shack because of the memories. I'll pay enough for you to all get houses of your own."

Michelle: "Uncle Jesse can't live more than twenty feet from my bed. Daddy, if you sell this house, I'll hold my breath until I stop looking like a troll doll!"

Papouli: "This house is perfect place to die!"

Jeff Franklin: "Guys, we've only got one more season. Make other plans."

Monday, May 24, 2010

Bonnie: "Nancy, Rochelle, I saw a girl twirling a #2 pencil on her desk without touching it! Can we let her into our coven? We need a fourth--the post chanting bridge games are a bust."

Nancy: "She looks too pure to be Wiccan."

Chris: "Hey Sarah, I'm a football QB. I'm a Sagittarius, I love long walks on the ten yard line, and in my spare time, I enjoy rearranging my Rohypnol collection."

Sarah: "Oh, hey. So what's with the Goth Talk rejects?"

Chris: "The one on the far right is Nancy--we think that that's really Robert Smith with a sex change and new identity as a Catholic schoolgirl. And in the middle is Bonnie--she never washes her hair and lets it fall in her face. And that's Rochelle. I can't insult her because she's the token."

Nancy: "You shouldn't hang out with Chris. He spreads disease. I speak from experience. I'm still on my last round of Cipro."

Rochelle: "You should hang with us. We can show you the best combination of silver face jewelry and black knee socks to wear to the Marilyn Manson box socials."

Bonnie: "Come on, we're going to shoplift at the New Age store."

New Agey Woman: "Sarah, you're not like the others. You didn't steal any of my Cherokee Hair Tampons. I sense the power in you. Maybe you are a natural witch."

Sarah: "Well, I gotta jet, guys. It's been cool, but now that I've got hair extensions and gave Joe my notice at Empire Records, I want to start having a cool life. Maybe we can be...er, ah, secret friends."

Chris: "Wanna sleep with me? No? OK, cool. Just told everyone you were a lousy lay."

Sarah: "Great. Back to befriending the witches."

Rochelle: "I've got to go--swimming practice."

Laura: "Ugh. Get your nappy hairs away from me. I don't hang out with negroids."

Don Imus: "Want to come work for me? We were looking for a hot but freakishly bald racist chick--someone to be the Robin Givens to my Howard Stern."

Bonnie: "Doctor, will this experimental treatment work to cure me of the horrible burns on my body and my general shy girl demeanor?"

Doctor: "Who knows? I saw it on The Exorcist, so I'm sure it'll work."

Nancy: "STOP IT!"

Stepdad: "You sure are wearing a clingy robe, Nancy. Heh. Heh. Where'd I put my Do Not Resuscitate sticker the director gave me?"

Nancy: "Let's use Magic to get what we want. A dead stepdad and a blinged out trailer home for me, a pussywhipped Chris for Sarah, a years supply of Pantene for Bonnie, and an end to racism or a call from Jesse Jackson for Rochelle."

Doctor: "Bonnie, the treatment worked! You can wear tight tops and your hair's longer and more voluminous than ever!"

Laura: "I'm bald and heinous looking and now no one but Mr. Furious will ever love me!"

Chris: "I love you, Sarah. I can't get you out of my head. Now hold still."

Nancy: "Chris tried to rape you? Fuck that shit. He was supposed to try to rape me. How come I only get a mild come on from my overweight stepdad and you get a full on rape attempt from the class Johnny Depp?"

Nancy: "Come on, Chris. You know you want me."

Chris: "Get off me. Lipstain in ebony is really hard to scrub off my junk."

Nancy: "I'm tired of being jolie laide. Time for girl next door redux! Hey Chris...Look. I can morph! I can be Michael Jackson or Tyra Banks or a Chinese woman or even Sarah!"

Chris: "Whoa. Sarah? Why don't we do it on the coats at a house party?"

Sarah: "O-kay. This is all very Single White Wiccan."

Chris: "What the fuck. You're a witch? A jealous witch!"

Nancy: "JEALOUS? You don't even EXIST to me! You're NOTHING! All you do is treat women like WHORES!"

Sadako: "So...that's why you've been throwing yourself at him for the last ten minutes."

Sarah: "I can't believe Chris is really dead. And that no one in costume could get me a better wig."